


I'll be with you soon

by Thisbirdhasflown



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Post-BOFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thisbirdhasflown/pseuds/Thisbirdhasflown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balin and Oin deal with their emotions after the BoFA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be with you soon

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, if you find mistakes please point them out to me.

At the end of another long day in Erebor, Balin left the council chamber, rubbing his tired eyes and sighing deeply. Dain Ironfoot was a hard dwarf. He was also just and thorough and energetic and he would be a good king, but Balin could not appreciate this at the moment. He walked through the dusty corridors of the outer halls, dodging piles of debris and the dwarves working here. Most of them were from the Iron Hills. Balin had come to know some of the faces, but couldn’t remember their names. And he honestly didn’t care to remember them. Right now all he wanted to do was forget. 

He wanted to forget Bilbo’s tearstained face, as he had turned around in his saddle and waved goodbye to the mountain and to the company gathered at the gates. He wanted to forget Thorin’s still body on the stone slab, where they had lain him down for his last rest. He wanted to forget the two smaller bodies next to him. But most of all he wanted to forget the battle. 

Balin was a seasoned warrior and had fought many a fight and many a battle and though some stood clearer in his mind than others, he had been able to leave them behind when they had ended. He had seen so many fall in his life, friends and family and strangers alike. Somehow he had thought he could bear everything. But he knew that this battle of five armies would haunt him to the end of his days. It was because of this, that he worked every day till he almost fainted with exhaustion, giving his council to Dain, negotiating with the men of Lake Town, planning the future of Erebor. 

But his heart was not in the matter. He simply worked so he didn’t have to remember. But remember he did. Even if he could shield his waking mind against the memories, in his dreams he was on the battle field again every night. 

It had been chaos. Utter chaos. He’d lost sight of everybody of the company for a while, concentrating on his own fight, almost automatically slaying his opponents with the practiced movements of an old fighter. And then, after what seemed like hours he had caught sight of Thorin. He had seen him fight on so many occasions but this time it made Balin pause. A true king he looked then, fierce and strong, his face determined without the mad look of gold sickness that had distorted his features for a while. And then it had happened, the nightmarish scene he kept visiting in his dreams. 

There were so many foes and Thorin fought them all alone and Balin was sure he would not hold up much longer under the onslaught. Balin had tried to get closer, tried to help. And then there had been an arrow, pointed at the king. But it did not meet its target. Kili had taken the arrow meant for his uncle. Balin saw how the missile pierced through the armor, pierced the living flesh of the young dwarf, saw the surprise on his face as he was thrown back by the force of the shot. And then he had heard the scream. It had been an unearthly sound, something he had never heard before, something he was sure could not ne uttered by a living thing. But he had turned and saw Fili, his face anguished, fighting his way over to his brother and uncle. The terrible scream was coming from him and it seemed to go on and on, even though Balin knew it didn’t last longer than a few seconds. 

Never before had he heard anything like this. It was more than just Fili’s voice crying out, it had been his soul, shrieking in unbearable pain because he knew his brother, his soulmate, his other half was lost. The sound had been burned into Balin’s memory and he heard it every night.  
And that was why the old dwarf worked. So that he didn’t have to think. So that he maybe fell asleep at night, so tired that at least for a few hours he would be spared the dreams. Even now he tried to banish the thoughts. He wandered through the decaying halls of Erebor, trying to exhaust his body so that his mind might rest, not caring where his feet carried him, though they always carried him to one place in the end. 

 

****************************

 

Oin sat down at a table in the infirmary, covering his face with his hands and trying to rest his itching eyes for a moment. It had been another long day. Another day that had seen death. Even three weeks after the battle his patients still died. He had been hoping, hoping so much that it was over now. There had not been a death for two days. And his most critical patient, a young dwarf from the Iron Hills, had finally regained consciousness. He had asked for water and his eyes had been focused. Even the fever had been gone. And then he had died an hour ago. Just quietly slipped away, not uttering a single sound, his face peaceful and at rest. 

Oin rubbed at his face, trying to fight the feeling of envy. He wanted rest too. But there was none for him. Maybe the dying would be over soon, but there were wounds. So many wounds and not all of them would ever heal properly. The healer got up again and walked over to cool the face of another dwarf, agitated from a fever and the pain from his wounds. While he mopped the pale face with a wet cloth, he tried not to think of the battlefield. But it was no good. His mind always went back to it.

As a healer Oin had seen many dwarves die. He had held their hands as they left this world for the halls of their maker, had washed their bodies and prepared them for their last rest. And he had seen battlefields, strewn with bodies, friends and foes made equal by death. But this had been the most terrible one. He had cared for the wounded for two days without sleep. He had seen Thorin die, seen Bilbo cry with unbearable grief over the body of the king. And then he had searched for Fili and Kili. Nobody had seen them and even though Balin had told him that he’s seen them fall, Oin had not believed him. 

He searched the tents of the wounded first. But they were nowhere. He asked everybody he met if they’d seen the heir and his brother, but nobody had seen them. Then he looked at the bodies lain out, but they were not in the tents by the river either. He turned to the battlefield at last.  
There were still bodies lying here and he even found one dwarf still alive. His hope flared up and Oin searched and searched. 

He found them only by coincidence. A ray of sun caught on a golden curl, it reflected the light and shone right into Oin’s eyes, who rushed over, his heart pounding in his chest. 

It was no wonder they had not been found until now. Fili’s body had been mauled beyond recognition, his blond hair soaked with blood. Only one strand of hair had remained it’s original colour and blown in the wind like a small banner for Oin to find him.

He had lifted the broken body, shaking with tears and found Kili lying underneath his brother. While Fili had been viciously torn apart, Kili looked like he was only sleeping, had it not been for the broken shaft of an arrow protruding from his chest. His face had been pale under the caked blood and he’d looked almost peaceful, like he was asleep. 

Oin had broken down there and then. He had just sat there, both boys in his arms and cried till Balin and Gloin had come to search for him. They had helped him carry the bodies from the battle field but Oin had allowed nobody to help him prepare them for the funeral. 

He had done that alone, pale and grimfaced and finally without tears. He felt like he had none to cry anymore. 

Rubbing at his eyes again Oin straightened up as the door of the infirmary opened. He turned around and saw Balin in the door. “May I enter?” the old warrior asked.

“You are always welcome.” Oin answered and crossed the room over to his friend. “You look pale. When have you last eaten?” he asked, his healer instincts kicking into action as he scrutinized the tired, drawn face behind the white beard. 

“I…I can’t remember.” Balin said honestly, looking lost. 

“Sit down. I’ll get you something.” Oin ordered. He went to the infirmary kitchen, where there was always a broth warming over the fire. He ladled some of the soup into a bowl and noticed he himself was famished. Shrugging he took another bowl and filled it for himself. There was some bread and cheese there as well and ale. Oin grabbed spoons and a goblet, put everything on a tray together with the food and carried it over to Balin. 

They ate in silence, sharing the goblet of ale between them and then sat for a while, looking at each other quietly, their hands touching on the table surface. Finally Balin sighed and got up, Oin following suit. 

“I think I’ll retire.” Balin said. Oin nodded and stepped forward, embracing the smaller dwarf and touching their foreheads together. He stood quietly for a while, resting his head against Balin’s and breathing slowly, his eyes closed. 

“Will you be coming to bed soon?” Balin asked, his voice low. “You need rest as well, healer.”

“Aye, I will.” Oin promised and leaned down to press a kiss to Balin’s lips. “I’ll be with you soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, critic and everything else is very much appreciated. Thank you very much for reading.


End file.
